Kuso Gaki!
by Zyu The Last
Summary: Grimmjaw's eye twitched as he stared in disbelief, "So you're telling me... That Kurosaki Ichigo, assumed dead, was actually turned into a snot nosed Brat?" Aizen Tutted, "Language, Grimmjaw." [Abandoned]
1. Found

**Disclaimer:**

Kubo Tite Owns Bleach. Besides, this if Fanfiction. Fiction written by Fanatics, You get the deal.

**Authors Note:** So, this Idea has been floating in my head ever since I've seen Nell. So I finally scooped up what remained of my Guts and courage after the horrible failure or "Subito Vestis" and put it into Text. Let's just hope this comes out much better.

**Warnings:** Rated for foul Language that will be soon be spawned. Slight spoilers for the manga.

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**Kuso Gaki!**

_**One**_

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A small Figure sat upon the back of a colossal being whose chest gently heaved in the deep breaths of slumber. Below in its curling protective frame were three more bodies, each varying in size and shape, but they too were ensnared in the tender web of sleep. The shadowy light from the peculiar crescent moon drew soft shadows upon the waves of sand which was dotted with the crowns of hidden trees. The Figure gave a breathy sigh as he stared up at the everlasting night; wide chocolate brown eyes reflected the permanent moon before tired lashes wiped the scene away.

Usually one would think wide eyes would classify the bearer as a happy, childish, and innocent being. The Figure was no exception, it was however odd that those same laughing eyes would sometimes cloud over in the most disturbing ways when in thought only to vanish at the slight trace of a distraction.

The Figure uncrossed his legs and swung them over the side of the gigantic makeshift bed before sliding down with a small giggle. Thin scrawny legs hit the sand before the Figures black cloak twined itself around his limbs and dragged the boy down into the sand. A soft hiccupping wail roused the smallest of the group, and with a jaw splitting yawn she tried to locate the hushed sounds of distress. Tottering to her feet she crawled over the tail of the huge beast and slid over to land beside the crying boy.

"N-Nell-chan?" startled the boy wiped his tears away and stared questionably at the mentioned girl. The girl in question offered the boy a lopsided grin before small chubby hands began to untangle the boy from his dragging cloak. The Boy's tears streaked face lit up immediately when his legs were freed and lunged forwards to give the smaller girl an awkward hug of gratitude.

Nell smiled as the Boy tackled her into the sand and patted the bleached white mask that was clasped over the boys strawberry blond tresses, "Go to sleep now, it's Don Chakkas turn to be It tomorrow," a yawn "and you know that Don Chakka can run fast if Don Chakka wants to…" Nell trailed off as sleep reclaimed its hold upon her and the Boy unlatched himself from her as his smile faded. Happy and tired eyes stared at Nell as she slept against the monstrous form of Bawabawa. Settling himself beside her he recalled his relationship with the sleeping group and felt another wave of gratitude wash itself over him.

Nell and her brothers were the ones who had found him crying in the sand, he guessed they had felt the need to protect him and in a sense "adopt" him; he could understand why, being in the pitiful state he was, ragged, dirty and pathetically helpless. That or not, they've been with him ever since, and for that he was grateful. Nell was always trying to keep him happy and he likewise, tried to keep her happy. He always felt an empty pang resound through his chest whenever he tried to think of Nell as the sister he never had, so he didn't. Since joining their little troop he didn't have the time to dwell upon the troubling thoughts of who he was.

He didn't really remember anything about himself- well nothing solid at least. The only things he could recall were small bits and pieces of what must've been his life, so scattered and random, that it frustrated him to the point where he _didn't_ want to remember. The most reoccurring memories were those of battles, pain and sadness. Faces of those he knew were blurred, their voices muted and their significance unresolved. He then decided that they were not, at least not now, apart of his life.

One memory in particular both troubled and plagued his mind; he had never shared this particular memory with Nell or her brother and instead opted to keep it at the back of his mind. It was however times like these, quiet, peaceful and silent that the hovering memory would attack his psyche and sent wave after wave of emotional pain throughout his being.

In the Memory he was running, at his sides were the blurred forms of his important people, urgency and panic nipped at their heels and urged them to go faster. He could count five people in total and it was as clear as day that they were battered and injured; some more than others and another barely clinging to consciousness. They were running away from a large building, so large in fact that it could be seen from almost any point of the vast empty world. Behind them the blaring shriek of alarms and the cries of rage followed them out as they ran.

A surge of hope had filled his chest when he located the rip in the air; the portal to the Human world and the familiar face of _Someone_ waving and calling for them to hurry. It was then when a powerful blast of reiatsu brought them all down onto their knees. In his memory he recalled a mop of brown hair and strangely enraged eyes. He felt in his gut that it was extremely out of character for the brunet to express his anger so openly. In the brunet's outstretched hand was an orb of ebony black and at the sight of the item he had felt the blood drain from his face.

Behind the Brunet more figures gathered. Leering blue, impassive green, grinning grey, and blind, these were the eyes that watched him and his friends' fall- their faces like all of the others, were blurred and disordered. He remembered screaming in rage and pulling upon some forbidden power as he felt a mask form over his face, he had ordered his friends to enter the portal and tend to the injured. But at the same time the Brunet had thrust his hand out; from the orb thin dangerous tendrils spewed forth and latched themselves onto his form. From there he could only remember feeling relief as the last of his friends entered the portal.

Then everything had gone black.

The Boy smiled and drew meaningless patterns into the sand. That's all they were, he assured himself, meaningless memories that had no connection to his past self. Eyes drooping he drew his knees up with a yawn and fell into the murky pool of his muddled and incomplete thoughts.

As the Boy fell into a restless slumber he didn't notice the small lizard Hollow staring intently at the group from its perch atop the branches of a dead tree. It flicked its tongue out a few times before it scurried away with purpose. Its form blurred as it approached high speeds when it darted over and under the sand. Its eyes gleamed with unusual intelligence as they reflected its destination.

Las Noches.

The Boy had questioned Nell about he unfathomably huge palace numerous times, but one of the brother would always interrupt and lead his thoughts away from the building. It had never occurred to him that the brothers were doing this purposely. And he never saw how Nells eyes narrow ever so slightly at the mention of the Building. Eventually the Boy had forgotten his curiosity about huge building and just marked it off as a part of the bleak landscape. But he never mentioned it again.

The lizard paused, now at the foot of palace, and flicked its tongue out once more. It seemed to have come to a conclusion as it crawled onto the wall and continued its relentless pace showing no signs of exhaustion. Eventually it stopped at a small hole in the wall and squirmed in.

On the other side of the wall was a dimly lit room, its contents hidden to the prying eye. A tall lanky form laid sprawled over what seemed to be a bed. It was here where the lizard emerged, crawling down the wall and onto the figures form. Long elegant fingers curled around the lizard before it was lifted off of the bed and on level to the figures face.

"Back so soon? What have you seen, show me." The low honey dipped voice signified that the mystery figure was male. The same long fingers dragged the now squealing lizard up by its tail and swung it lazily in front of his face. Laughing eyes watched the small animal struggle before the mystery man opened his mouth and dropped the lizard in. A sharp crack and a final high pitched screech resounded through the space before silence blanketed the room once more.

The man laid in silence as he shuffled through the memories of his dearly departed pet. Once calm eyes widened in shock before they slid closed in amusement. A small velvety chuckle escaped slightly parted lips before escalating into full blown laughter. The man raised one of his hands to his head and pressed the tips of his fingers onto his face as he struggled to contain his laughter. The irony of the situation refused to unhinge its claws over the man as he continued his long bouts of hilarity.

"Szayel-sama…?" the hesitant voice accompanied by a soft tap on the door snapped the pink haired scientist out of his spell. Stifling his mirth he drew he feet over the side of the bed and stumbled as he stood. His grin twisted into a scowl as his knees trembled. He cursed the 12th division captain for the thousandth time that day. Steadying his nerves he couldn't stop the psychotic smile that crept back onto his face; the new information he had found far out weighed the temporary nerve damage that the damned captain gave him.

"Who would've known? Who would've known that Dear _Neliel_ and _Kurosaki Ichigo_ were still alive?"

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**Authors Note:**

So there you have it. If all goes according to plan, next chapter will be up in two weeks. Please review and tell me what you think; I abandoned Subtio Vestis because People just didn't seem interested, don't let that happen to this one too!

I'm in **Need of a Beta, **preferably one who knows what he or she is doing. If you haven't seen any grammatical errors in here then you're not the one for the job. -Shivers- So much.. Errors... T.T

Without Author Notes: 1650 Words

**Ichigo**: -Disbelievingly- You... Turned me into a Brat? _What is wrong with you?_

**Zyu**: ... But the fans like it...

**Ichigo**: The Hell with Fans-!

**Szayel**: Now now children, no need to argue. Here have some candy.

**Zyu**: Yay! :D -Stuff stuff stuff-

**Ichigo**: Where the hell did you come from?!

**Nell**: Zyu... I don't tink you shud be eatn' dat... Zyu?

_Zyu lies K.O'ed in a puddle of drool while twitching madly. Meanwhile Szayel clutches his stomach as he laughs out what he just ate._

**Ichigo**: Dammit you stupid hollow! Without Zyu the Second chapter won't come out! Why'd you have to go kill her?

**Nell**: Itsyugo! Itsyugo! It Says righ' here dat the only awy to th'save Zyu is to review!

**Szayel: ** -Adjusts glasses- Apparently so...

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	2. Theory

**Disclaimer: **-Sighs wistfully-

**Authors Note:** 23 Reviews! I didn't know I would get such a Positive response! -Bows, Blubbering nonsense- En-enjoy Your Chapter t-two!

**Warnings:** In which we dip our toes into the cold, psychotic mind of Szayel Apporo Grantz.

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**Kuso Gaki!**

**Theory**

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Szayel Aporro Grantz considered himself a magnanimous man of science. When there was no answer to and no information on a new and unique phenomenon, Szayel went out of his own way to study and precisely label it. He couldn't deny the fact that his study sessions would often include physical and sometimes psychological damage to his new specimen, but he also knew when to restrain himself. Who knew when he would stumble across such an opportunity again?

This was what Szayel was mulling over in his newly constructed laboratory, its walls looming with complex machinery and tanks and bottles of unknown substances. The Arrancar's softly hued hair contrasted sharply with the pristine white walls, yet it seemed somehow suiting; an outrageous scientist for an outrageous laboratory. This, however, was not what Szayel was thinking so deeply about at the moment- actually, he didn't give damn about what others thought about him, much less his appearance. Cold amber eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses as the scientist drummed his fingers impatiently over the polished counter, mind in turmoil.

He couldn't decide what he wanted to do with his newly found specimens.

In one hand, he could try to smuggle them into the laboratory and conduct just the most critical tests in secret. His smooth forehead creased ever so slightly; with Aizen in command, conducting _anything _in secret wasn't possible. His mouth threatened to pull into a frown. This had been proven several times over in the past and he dared not test the limit of his sovereign's tolerance.

On the other hand, he could inform Aizen-sama of his newest discovery and await further instructions. He shook his head in a rare outward show of defeat; there was no guarantee that the two children would make it out alive. It was, after all, Kurosaki's fault that Aizen's plan had encountered a snag. Slight as it was, it had postponed the attack on Soul Society by one entire year.

Szayel sighed heavily as he massaged his temples. There was no choice, he decided reluctantly; he would have to go with the lesser evil.

"Lumina, Verona." At the call, two similarly short and obese Fracción appeared out of the shadows.

"Szayel Aporro-sama! Szayel Aporro-sama! How can we help you?"

"Release the tracking Lizards and send them to the east," Szayel then pulled a thin vial from his sleeve.

"This is a sample of Neliel's blood; I expect that her unusual transformation has not altered her spiritual signature." He set the vial onto the table.

"Give these to the Lizards and they'll do the rest. Do not follow them." With that curt order given, he turned and left the laboratory, confident that the two Fracción would fulfill his instructions to the utmost.

He smirked. He was, after all, a very generous man of science.

The large duo paused their odd and incessant bouncing to inspect the vial, and a brief squabble ensued. The quarrel ended with Lumina bouncing off of Verona in a flurry of limbs. Their usual excitement subdued by one painful kick in particular, Verona bounced after Lumina as he eyed the other's hand with longing. Clutched in the victor's webbed fingers was the vial of blood entrusted to them by the great Szayel Aporro Grantz. A wistful noise passed through his lip-less mouth as they headed toward the laboratory's holding cells.

Szayel kept many holding cells, all of which contained his living projects. A project he had rather recently finished was termed the "Lizards". Szayel had often thought that such an easy task did not deserve the privilege to be called a project, but had continued with it anyway. Perhaps it was because he wanted to have his own means of observation without having to trust in technology, which could easily be broken and could not think for itself; or, perhaps it was because it was all he could do with his (mostly) temporary, yet annoying, nerve damage that had been caused by the twelfth Shinigami captain.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi. Just the name set the pink-haired scientist off. It was a name that to him promised pain, ridicule and absolute mockery. The humiliating defeat at the other's hands was amplified by the fact that they were both beings of vision and logic; they both had the same distinctive urge to research and to know _why_; and yet they were also complete and utter opposites of each other.

He was perfect.

The other was not.

And that damned Shinigami had still beat him.

It seemed quite unfair, the Eighth Espada would often muse, that the Shinigami had fought him and won, when he, Szayel, had been so utterly confident that he would defeat all comers. Still, he had done next to absolutely nothing to the strange Captain in blackface. Even his final trump card, Gabriel, had been defeated. And to top it off, the odd potion that had been in Nemu's womb had completely shot his nervous system (what seemed like a million years of pain could do that to a person). But as cheaply as he thought of his Shinigami counterpart, he had never uttered those words aloud; it had been a battle of scientific thought and it was only reasonable that one would collect the required data before confronting the enemy. It had just been a stroke of luck that he had then gotten the Bug-infested Quincy as an opponent, but one thing was certain:

He would make them pay.

The 'Lizard' was just the first step in getting back to his full power. Once he had completely recovered he would gather the necessary data and tools to extract his revenge. He had one whole year to do so after all. And it was more than enough.

From what he had been able to ascertain from past fights and information given to all the Espada by Aizen, it was certain that Kurosaki Ichigo was a very important asset to Soul Society. The current Substitute Shinigami, a mere _human,_ had mounted the very first successful invasion of Soul Society in remembered history with a group consisting of just two other spiritually aware humans, one Quincy, and a cat, of all things. Along the way Ichigo had created many strong bonds with the most high-ranking Shinigami of Soul Society and apparently also with a rebel group called the Vizards. This was again emphasized when Ichigo had 'died' as the rescue group had escaped: according to the information relayed by his Bugs, the Shinigami had mourned for weeks and if he was correct, had still not fully recovered from the loss of one of their most charismatic and powerful fighters.

The lucky chance of finding the boy alive and well was a once in a lifetime chance. So many possibilities sprang forth; he had to take this opportunity. Szayel only hoped that Aizen would agree, but it was risky trying to figure out what went on inside his King's head.

Lumina and Verona bounced past the many holding cells and cages before stopping in front of a medium-sized glass tank. Opening the lid they gibbered excitedly before pulling out two small Lizards similar to the one that had stalked the Desert Brothers and One. Putting the lid back on, the peculiar duo bounced back out of the room to the outside of the building.

Popping the cork off of the vial, Lumina forced the mouth of the Lizard open before pouring half of its content down its throat and then passed the remains to Verona, who did the same. The Lizards stopped struggling as a slight gleam of higher intelligence flickered to the surface in their eyes. Flicking their tongues out, the Lizards hung limply from the hands of both the Fracción as they waited to be set free. When they finally were, they scuttled out of sight in a mere blink of an eye as they followed the distinctive spirit pressure that could be traced through the blood sample.

A few hundred miles to the east, a small, oblivious group frolicked happily through the sand, unaware of the danger that approached them.

Back in the bone-white palace of Las Noches, a certain Espada scientist strode smoothly through the halls with a content smirk upon his face. The bead of sweat that slipped down the side of his temple went unnoticed as he stopped in front of the doors to the throne room. Composing himself, he tucked a stray strand of hair back into place before he finally knocked. The ensuing silence seemed deafening before a smooth, deep voice called:

"Enter, Szayel Aporro."

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Szayel opened the door. Inside the vast space, Aizen sat upon his throne atop a tall platform. One had to wonder what the traitor Shinigami actually did all day. The walls themselves towered menacingly above them. The pillars along the sides of the room seemed to add an air of grace and ancient beauty. Subconsciously he raised his head causing his glasses to glint and reflect the dim, moody lighting.

"What brings you here, Szayel?"

"I believe that I have found something of interest to you, Aizen-sama."

"Oh?"

"In regard to Kurosaki Ichigo," A slim, dark eyebrow rose in sudden interest and Szayel continued, "Although he is not in the state most would expect, he is still alive." Time seemed almost to stop for the Eighth Espada as adrenaline flew through him.

"How interesting…" Aizen rose slowly out of his seat and slipped his arms into his large sleeves, "Is that all?" Szayel's eyes narrowed in disappointment, he knew a dismissal when he heard one. So he wouldn't get to test his theories on Kurosaki after all…

"That is all, Aizen-sama." He bowed respectfully and turned to make a swift, silent departure. Opening the doors, he was greeted by the deceptively exhausted, melancholic countenance of one Ulquiorra Schiffer. Cold eyes evaluated the disappointed Eighth causing the latter to glare back in futility; the differences in the power and authority backing the gaze of each was clear to all. Finally the Fourth Espada moved out of the way to allow the scientist passage. Relieved, Szayel took the opening and exited the room. Those same unemotional, impassive green eyes watched him before they averted their gaze as he entered the throne room.

"You called, Aizen-sama?" the muffled voice caught Szayel's attention. Pausing in front of the doors he strained his ears trying to catch what little of the conversation slipped through the thick entrance doors.

"Ah, Ulquiorra. Szayel has just been kind enough to tell me of something quite unusual…"

Smirking Szayel adjusted his glasses causing them to reflect the light and hide his eyes. A triumphant smile spread itself slowly over his face as he walked leisurely back to his quarters. So Aizen had realized the potential of the situation as well: excellent.

Unfortunately for Szayel, he would soon learn that his hypotheses would never be tested. It was also not to be brought to light that he had absolutely no idea what he had just dragged all of Las Noches into.

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**Authors Note:**

Thank you guys for the positive reviews! I can't express how happy I am! I'm glad to say that this chapter wouldn't be Possible without **3 Marie **(An anonymous reviewer, I will not disclose her real name unless given permission), she betaed this chapter and corrected grammar errors, smoothed out the flow of the words and most importantly, made this darn thing readable.

I think I replied to half of you, I stopped because when I checked my Gmail (which I'm just getting used to) I was overwhelmed. I'll make an effort to reply after this!

Without Authors Notes: 1846 words

**Szayel:** Ah, the joys of purely focused screen time-

**Ichigo: **What the hell! -shakes a limp Zyu- You gave Pinky all of the screen time?! I only came out Once! No, I was mentioned only ONCE!

**Zyu:** -Foams at the mouth-

**Nell:** Itsyugo! Let go of Zyu, she ish still recowvering!

**Szayel:** Tch, and you gave _me _a lecture about not killing the author...

**Ichigo: **-Throws Zyu at Szayel- Shut Up!

**Aizen:** -catches Zyu- It would be most kind if you didn't accidentally kill the Author, Ichigo-san

**Ichigo: **Where the Hell are all these freaks coming from! And go screw yourself you Ba-mmnnft!

**Ulquiorra:** -Muffling Ichigo- Aizen-sama abhors profanities.

**Zyu:** -Fangirls all over Ulquiorra-

**Ulquiorra:** What is this annoying Bug, buzzing incessantly in my ear?

**Zyu:**...

**Aizen:** Ah, Ulquiorra, I think you broke it.

**Ulquiorra: **-Bows- My apologies, Aizen-sama.

**Szayel:** It seems another Dosage of Reviews are in order...

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	3. The End

**Disclaimer: **-Sobs pitifully-

**Authors Note:** I was So Excited and happy with the response, so when the reviews stopped coming for three days, I died a little inside.

**Warnings: **In which we rewind ourselves in Ulquiorra's Musings and Ichigo receives a Nasty surprise.

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**Kuso Gaki!**

**The End of Endless Tag**

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Ulquiorra Schiffer, Cuarto Espada of Sōsuke Aizen's Hollow army, stood silently in front of the throne room's doors in his usual pose: slightly slouched, hands in his pants pockets, and that utterly indifferent look upon his face. Reptilian eyes of emerald, cold and uncaring, surveyed the stark, empty hallways; with a rustle of his coat-tails, he began to walk briskly down the Eastern Hall. Although it was almost impossible to discern the different expressions that went along with his feelings (assuming the impassive Arrancar actually had any), Ulquiorra was in a relatively interested mood. The focus of his ponderings was the curious being that was Kurosaki Ichigo.

The Espada had no solid opinion about the quasi-Shinigami, despite the fact that he had always managed to surprise him and at least attempt to drastically change his viewpoint. His feeling toward the boy had always hovered just between admiration and disgust. When he had first met the Substitute, he had been mildly interested in the raw power and potential the boy had, and then in his random fluctuations in spiritual pressure; as well, it wasn't very common to find a being capable of cutting through Yammy's rock-hard skin.

His expectations had risen slightly on their second meeting. It was then quite apparent that Kurosaki was definitely not your average over-powered kamikaze Shinigami. The boy had somehow blended the natures of the Death God and the Hollow far beyond the Vaizard and even the Arrancar had ever attempted. He had regained his Shinigami powers at the same time as he'd had his heart partially devoured by his newly awakened Hollow. The boy was indeed a true hybrid; unlike the Vaizard, whose Shinigami powers were most dominant, and the Arrancar, who were vise versa. He was, justly, a force to be reckoned with.

However, the boy was _weak_. Not in terms of power, but of mentality. Ulquiorra could practically smell the fear rolling off Kurosaki in waves. In any other situation that would have probably been understandable, considering the vast difference in power at the time of their first meeting. What truly irked the Fourth Espada was that fact that the boy was not afraid of him but of _himself_; afraid to release his inner Hollow and take advantage of its power. In any other situation the human was headstrong, cocky, and arrogant. No-- the boy was weak. He refused to embrace his nature and by doing so had cut his own power in half. It was positively disgusting.

He had let the boy live in hopes that Kurosaki would rise to his expectations. He had been sorely disappointed.

The pale Espada moved swiftly down the hall with purpose and soon entered the familiar domain of the Décimo Espada. Aizen's instructions echoed through his head. He had been ordered to bring along one Espada companion to detain the three who were accompanying the target. After a brief overview, he had decided to take Yammy. The other Espada all either had a grudge against the orange-head or just didn't think about the consequences of disobeying orders. Now, he wasn't saying that Yammy didn't fit in either category (in fact he was rather in both) but the Tenth Espada was the easiest to control. Any other brought along would have probably resulted in conflict.

Stopping in front of the only room located in the hall, his eyes were drawn to the large black ten painted neatly onto the stark white door. The familiar presence of the large Espada pulsed gently from within; asleep, he noted. Reluctantly pulling his hand from his pocket he rapped the door with the back of his knuckles in a vague show of courtesy. As he waited he couldn't help but return to his previous musings. He had often wondered if the final fight would have lasted longer if the human had not been towing around the traitor Neliel. He quickly banished the thought. There was no use in wondering about what could have been; the only road to take was the one he made with his own hands.

"What is it, Ulquiorra?" The deep rumble was tinged with irritation. Yammy stood in the doorway scratching his bare chest, which was littered with small welts and faint scars. Most of the Arrancar had become bored out of their minds without any missions to accomplish or enemies to kill. Many of them had resorted to fighting amongst themselves, much to Yammy's pleasure. Aizen, predictably, didn't seem to care, it was very apparent that the Números, Privarón and Fracción were expendable.

"We're leaving shortly," Ulquiorra's calm demeanor caused the Tenth's pupils to dilate in sudden excitement, "Aizen-sama has entrusted us with a mission..."

A few hundred miles away from the two Espada exchanging pleasantries, the Desert Brothers and One sat in a loose circle. Half lidded chocolate eyes stared dully across the circle into those of the big boned Don Chakka. Beside the strawberry blond sat the tiny, impatient figure of Nell, who seemed to twitch every few-odd moments. Pesche, who was at the opposing end, had to wonder what was causing his young master to fidget so violently. Pesche fiddled with the end of his loincloth as he snuck glances across the circle; the uncomfortable silence was almost tangible as he studied each group member.

Nell had matured after the Shinigami Invasion; whether from the actually incident itself or from the bits of her memories that had surfaced, he didn't know. When they had found the newly transformed Ichigo, she had put two and two together and had then demanded that they tell her what had happened. For her own safety, he had only given the bare essentials and that, apparently, was enough. Pesche smiled wistfully from under his mask as he watched his young master, memories from their past life flashing unbidden though his mind's eye. His and Don Chakka's loyalty to the ex-Tercero Espada was unwavering; he would die for her and although the statement remained unsaid, she knew that.

Nell sat cross-legged with her arms folded over her chest. Her ordinary childish grin was turned down at the corners in an irritated frown and he, remembering the situation, replaced his own smile with a similar expression of displeasure. His eyes shifted to the next member of the group.

After the final battle, she had refused to believe that Ichigo had died. When the Arrancar troops had moved out, she had gone looking for him. Pesche and Don Chakka could do nothing but follow with bleak hope. After a few days, even Nell had eventually begun to doubt the survival of her hero. It was when she had decided that she wanted to at least find his body was Ichigo found.

Bawling in the sand like there was no tomorrow with red-gold hair, chocolate eyes, and a black cloak, there was no doubt that this was Ichigo. The Shinigami appeared to have succumbed to the same symptoms that Nell had, a seeming eternity ago: a loss of memory and a strangely Chibi-fied appearance. Nell immediately set to work on reacquainting herself with the shadow of her affections; it really wasn't hard seeing how confused and desperate he was.

Pesche's eyes curved up in a smile again; he preferred this Chibi-Ichigo to the child's true adult form. Where Ichigo was serious and sarcastic, this child was much more likeable. No longer having a reason to wear his constant frown and 'tough guy' image, he was all smiles and laughs. Without the heavy weight of responsibility constantly on his shoulders, this Chibi-Ichigo was true to his nature; he cried when he was sad, he smiled when he was happy. Without his friends and family to look after--the smile melted off of Pesche's hidden face. Unable to continue his train of thought his eyes moved onto the final character of the circle.

Don Chakka was… Well… Don Chakka was Don Chakka.

"So…" Don Chakka's voice was tentative and weak; it seemed that he was aware that he was the source of the tension that floated loftily above their heads. Nell glared daggers at the big boned Hollow and Ichigo continued to stare dully into space.

"I still t'ink you cheated," her voice was accusing and filled with childish malice.

Pesche abruptly stood causing the other hollow to scuttle back in alarm. Pointing one finger into the air and placing the other hand on his hip he declared, "Yes, yes! Don Chakka!" swinging the sky raised finger down, he pointed at the still frozen hollow, "You have obviously cheated! There is no way that you could have caught the faster and stronger Nell! Now, _apologize_!"

"What, yansu!" The accused hopped onto his feet in anger and imitated the other by pointing his own finger at him, "How can you cheat at endless tag, yansu!" Pesche slumped visibly in confusion at the counter attack. But as quickly as he was stumped, the flame of indignation was lit once again.

"It doesn't matter! You've obviously cheated! Isn't that right Ichigo-chan?" Pesche turned towards the blond and kneeled until they were at eye level. Snapping out of whatever reverie he was in, the youngest beamed a blinding smile;

"What's the question, again?"

"You can't bring Ichigo-chan into this, yansu! You know that he can never disagree- you're taking advantage of him, yansu!"

"What?! Never! Right, Ichigo-chan?"

"You're doing it again, yansu!"

"Am not!"

"Are too, yansu!"

Ichigo smiled warmly as they bantered back and forth. Dusting his cloak off, he stood and ambled off, confident that they would find him in the generally flat landscape if he wandered too far. Nell, who had been gleefully watching the argument, turned to watch the bubbly blond play aimlessly in the sand. Smiling, she watched as he raised his hands and walk in a curved arc, performing a balancing act for an invisible audience. Curious, she watched Ichigo suddenly stop and crouch to inspect something in the sand. Ignoring the two (now wrestling) Hollows behind her, Nell stood and followed the path that Ichigo had trailed in the sand. Hovering behind the now silent boy, she asked tentatively, "Berry-tan?"

"Nell-chan, what's this?" the question answered with another, Ichigo turned. His hands were cupped carefully as to not hurt the being he had found. In his hands he held a small beige colored lizard. Nell laughed and reached out to pat the lizard,

"It's a lizard Berry-" she froze as the tips of her chubby fingers came into contact with the skull like casing that enveloped the animals head. Her own reiatsu was in the lizard: how was that possible!? Shivering, she tried to fight off the panic that had begun to creep over her senses; she had a very bad feeling about this.

"Oh, really? Pesche, Don Chakka! Look what I found!" Excited and happy, Ichigo obliviously bounded past the frozen Nell. Stopping in front of his two 'older brothers' he proudly showed them his newfound prize, "It's a lee-are-zarde," he stumbled over the new word. Pushing the animal up to their faces he pleaded, "Can I keep it?"

"Oh... I don't know," a suddenly skeptic Pesche placed one of his hands under his chin in the classic thinking pose. It would have looked quite practical if the lanky limbed Hollow wasn't squished under his brother.

"Oh, come on Pesche," The cheetah printed hollow laid sprawled over the smaller. Resting his head atop one of his hands he continued "Let Ichigo-chan keep it. What are you going to name it Ichigo-chan, Don Chakka Junior, yansu?"

"What!" Pesche, who seemed a little thinner than usual, erupted from the sand and sent Don Chakka flying though the air, "If anyone, Ichigo-chan would name it _Pesche Junior!"_

"_Lies, yansu_!" Ichigo sighed as the two brothers were at each others throats once more. Sitting in the sand he held the lizard's thin arms and tugged gently, making the limp lizard move in the sand as its' tail twitched in annoyance.

"Drop the lizard," Nell, who had snapped out of her thoughts, trembled as she forced her suddenly heavy feet towards the group. Voice rising in a panicked pitch she trilled, "Drop the lizard, Ichigo!"

Startled, Ichigo stared at Nell in a confused fear. She had never called him by his real name, and he had never seen her never seemed so scared. Strong, dependable Nell who, although she seemed younger then him, had a strange understanding of the world around them, and a strange understanding of him as well. "N-Nell?"

Pesche and Don Chakka had both stopped tussling in the sand as soon as they heard the panicked note in their young master's voice. Their eyes made contact with Nell's olive green ones, and an immediate understanding was reached. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Pesche shot forward and snatched the lizard from Ichigo's hands, heedless of the boy's startled cry. Squeezing the small animal his eyes widened as he felt Nell's reiatsu fluctuate in place of its own. "Don Chakka!" Pesche threw the lizard onto the sand and killed it under the heel of his foot.

"I got it, yansu!" Don Chakka opened his mouth to the point of dislocation, and from it, the huge familiar shape of their Pet, Bawabawa, shot out. The worm-like hollow spread itself out, already aware of the situation, whimpering and growling in a language that only Don Chakka knew. Moving at an almost unbelievable speed for someone his size, he darted forwards and clasped his large hands around Ichigo before jumping onto Bawabawa's monstrous back. Pesche similarly scooped up Nell and joined the others. Under a silent command, Bawabawa shot forwards and sped away from Las Noches.

Behind them, the dead lizard spilt its black inky blood into the sand. The second lizard emerged from its hiding place before inspecting its fallen comrade. Dilated eyes reflected the mangled body of the corpse before him. A brief moment passed and the second lizard was tailing the Trio and One, its maw spattered with blood.

Ichigo stayed in a terrified silence as the wind snapped and bit as his face. Pesche and Don Chakka had never treated him this roughly before; did he do something wrong? Tears unbidden sprang to his eyes, what in the world was happening? He curled into a ball shivering and Don Chakka tightened his grip on the youngest in protective reassurance. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he was flung into the air when a suffocating amount of reiatsu pressed down at them in a sickening parody of a gust of wind. Landing in the sand he bounced and rolled with a wail of terror. Stunned, he sprawled on his front as stared blankly out in front of him.

The suffocating spirit pressure continued and distance off, Ichigo could make out the shape of Bawabawa, who laid nauseatingly still. Its master who had been flung the farthest distance, convulsed but otherwise lay motionless. Pesche, a little closer struggled to get up but collapsed in exhaustion. The tears spilled over as he located Nell. Five strides away, the mint-haired girl struggled and sat up awkwardly on her knees. His view was suddenly obstructed as a black sandaled foot stepped in front of him. Unable to move he listened, petrified, as he heard Nell give a shuddering, stuttering gasp:

"Q-Qua-Quathro Ethpada, Ulquiorra-sa-sama!"

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**Authors Note: **

BWAHAHAHA My Cliff Hanger is so evil and smart and -Gets shot by angry readers-

So, I'm pretty happy with this chapter, let me know what you guys think. my Beta **Kermit's Sister **made everything flow and correcting my stupid errors. So Many thanks and Cookies to her! It seems like my chapters are getting longer and longer, haha.

Without Author's Note: 2552 Words:

**Ulquiorra:** It seems that the plans are all going according to plan.

**Yammy: **Huh? What plans?

**Ulquiorra:** ... You are one of the stupidest beings I've had the chance to meet. And that's why you're so useful.

**Yammy:** Wait, What?!

**Pesche:** Exactly!

...

**Pesche:** What?

**Yammy:** Can I kill it?

**Ulquiorra:** Be my guest.

**Pesche: **What! No! And I Finally got some screen Time!

**Nell:** Hmm, I wonder where Zyu is?

**Ichigo:** -Places fist in his palm- Oh! Her? Last time I checked she was shriveled in a corner Moaning about the lack of reviews. Apparently she got alot in the beginning and then had the flow abruptly stopped. Pft, what a pathetic creature.

**Don Chakka**: Wait, Yansu! then how did this chapter come out?

**Ulquiorra:** That is not for you to know.

**Ichigo**: Are you implying something?

**Ulquiorra**: It seems we've run out of screen Time.

**Ichigo**: Wait, What? Stop no-!

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	4. Bad Day

**Disclaimer: **-Strangled noise-

**Authors Note:** I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I hope you have a lot of fun reading it. :

**Warnings: **In which poor Grimmjow is introduced and just can't get a break.

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**Kuso Gaki!**

**Grimmjow's Bad Day**

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Grimmjow was having a bad day, but that seemed to be putting it _tad _bit too lightly. Oh sure, the morning (if one could call it that) had started innocently enough, but the longer the day dragged on, the further he was convinced that it all had been personally planned by that ever-smiling, fox-faced freak. Grimmjow grimaced; it would be exactly like Gin to orchestrate one of the most miserable days he had ever had. The worst part of it being that fact that he was '_forbidden_' to '_unleash his inadequately contained temper_' upon the Arrancar who had the misfortune to cross his path '_lest he destroy the entire army_' before they had the chance to '_honorably serve Aizen-sama to the fullest by carrying out his justice._' No points to guess who'd said _that_.

An average day in the life of Grimmjow Jaggerjaques would start normally enough. He would awake, sprawled out in a completely different position from when he had gone to sleep, complete his morning ritual of making himself look presentable, double check if anything had got caught in his Hollow hole, and then go annihilate the first weakling Arrancar he saw. He was actually doing Aizen a favor by getting rid of the pansy-assed lowlifes who couldn't tell the difference between a sword and one of Aizen's ridiculous teaspoons- but he was getting off topic.

So as fate would have it, he _did _wake up in an odd position, he _did _check if anything had gotten caught in his Hollow hole (and there was nothing there, mind you), and he_ did_ kill the first lowlife he had seen. Too bad said lowlife was one of the only two Fracción that Nnoitora had. So, apparently Karma (who lately seemed to be Aizen's bitch) then decided that Grimmjow was being a bad little Espada and promptly sent Nnoitora chasing after him for the better part of the day. He'd bet that the stupid asshole just wanted to find a reason to fight him. The cyan haired Arrancar scowled as Tōsen's previous command replayed itself in his head

"_Cease from eliminating my comrades, lest I decimate the entire army,"_ he mocked, before stabbing Pantera into the ground in front of him moodily. In any other situation, he would have gone out of his way to destroy _more_ trash, just to piss the ex-captain off. But past experiences had taught him that Kaname Tōsen wouldn't hesitate to 'eliminate threats to the righteous cause of justice.' Grimmjow was blunt, rude, and not a little bloodthirsty, but he was most definitely not stupid. Tracing the smooth unmarred skin of his left arm he marveled, once more, at _her_ strange event-rejecting power. However, _she _wasn't here right now, and he liked having all of his limbs attached, thank you very much.

Pulling Pantera out of the sand, he huffed as he examined his surroundings for the _6_th time (they were always the same...) with detached interest. He was sitting with his arms propped up by his knees; his light blue hair was in shaggy disarray and his clothing was positively torn to shreds from Nnoitora's pitiful attempts at revenge. And he stressed _attempts_. He smirked, there was no way a _bug _could match a_ Panther _in speed; new clothes could be bought or made, and Grimmjow's body was completely unscathed_. Rank _certainly seemed to have little enough to do with power. Leaning back he let his head bump against the wall of one of the many sub-buildings inside the grand complex of Las Noches. Gazing up at the artificial sky, he scowled; recalling what had happened after a very amused Nnoitora had stopped chasing him.

Harassed and pissed, Grimmjow had stalked through the bleached white halls of the main building. Left and right, various Arrancar pressed themselves against the walls, giving the blue-haired devil a wide berth. Soon he entered a long, empty hall with a familiar solitary door marked with his signature crooked Six.

Kicking the door open, he was abruptly pounced on by a fat ugly _thing_. Snarling angrily he swiped at the ball of whatever-the-hell-it-was and stumbled back. He had three seconds to mentally digest that fact that the offender was one of Szayel's many Fracción… and that it had just escaped with his bedsheets. He palmed his face, Mother of all that was holy-!

Grinding his teeth angrily he resisted the urge to just Cero the little bastard right then and there, with his bedsheets clutched in its little webbed fingers or none. Better to just incinerate them then let a certain someone with a certain sword release called _Fornicarás _anywhere near them. So, roles reversed, he chased the blubber wad down the hall, stomped with both feet on its midsection, and as it let out all the air inside it with a definite _whoosh_, he swiftly yanked his sheets and blankets away from it. Stepping on its face a final time, he strolled back to his room-- only to find that Nnoitora had returned.

So here he was, sitting in the sand, totally alone, with only his bedsheets for company. Rearranging the blankets he sighed and began to doze as the synthetic day warmed his body; reveling in the small moment of peace. He allowed his eyes to slide shut.

Poke… Poke…

"Neeh, Grimmjow... Eeaaah! Wake up, Grimmjow!" Slitting his eyes just barely open, he glared at the being that dared disrupt his well-earned rest. Crouching beside him was a familiar scantily-clad girl; Stark's little Fracción. Not even trying to recall her name he growled,

"What is it, woman?"

"It's Lilinette, Rin-ri-nett-o," she smiled as Grimmjow's scowl deepened, "Stark sent _me_ to tell _you_," she poked his chest just above the Hollow hole, "to meet him an' the rest of the Espada for one of Aizen's meetings."

Swatting her hand away from him, the blue haired menace grumbled an affirmative and slid his eyes shut in another attempt at sleep.

...Poke…Poke...Bloody Fuckin' _POKE_!

"What the fuck do you want, woman!" Grimmjow's roar of anger sent the other tumbling into the sand, "Leave me alone before I Cero your ass!" His stomach dropped unpleasantly when he turned to glare at Lilinette. She was smirking, no... _Smiling. _God damn it! You don't fucking _smile_ when the Panther King threatens to blast you into oblivion!

"Stark ordered me not to leave your side 'til you make it to the meeting, 'cause he knows you're just going to be late 'n'ways." Her smile turned sly, "'Sides, Mister Tōsen just told me the funniest thing…"

Today, truly, was a bad day for Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. Too bad it was only going to get worse.

"Q-Qua-Quathro Ethpada, Ulquiorra-sa-sama!"

Disdainful eyes stared at the child-like Arrancar as it trembled and stuttered incoherently. The raven haired Hollow immediately recalled that fact that this was the same Arrancar who had accompanied Kurosaki on his raid. Examining the child he purposely increased his amount of spirit pressure and watched it choke and collapse under the sheer weight of his presence. How... disgusting. This was the current incarnation of the infamous Tercero Espada, the Double Cero? A small whimper returned him to the present situation.

The mop of orange hair at his feet moved until impossibly wide brown eyes stared up at him in terror. He was disappointed to note that there seemed to be not even a flicker of recognition in those tear filled eyes; what a pity.

"Oiiiiii, Ulquiorra! This them?" green eyes removed themselves from the boy's drowning stare. Yammy had... finally... caught up to him.

"Yes, these are the targets that we were sent to retrieve."

"Oh?" Yammy scratched his head, "Didn't he say there were only two? They're," he made a quick calculation, "Five of them."

"The ones that aren't Arrancar are trash." Ulquiorra kneeled and grabbed the terrified boy by the neck. Gasping for breath Ichigo scrabbled helplessly at his assailant's hands as he was hefted into the air. The corners of his vision darkened and he could barely make out the words of the larger invader as he laughed.

"Trash, you say?"

"I-Ichigo!" distantly, he heard Nell call his name but couldn't find the strength to answer.

"Too noisy," he felt the man gripping him move and heard a scream of pain that was abruptly cut off. A laugh,

"As cold hearted as ever, huh, Ulquiorra?" _'No, no, no-!"_

"Nel!" Duo cries of alarm. '_Pesche and Don Chakka?'_

"Don't look away!" the other stranger. Cries of pain. _'Stop laughing!'_

"It's time to go, Yammy." _'Go where?' _

"Ahh, they're no fun." _'Leave us alone…'_

'_Please…'_

The darkness ate away at his senses and everything spun out of control.

Loud angry taps echoed through the partially empty hall before a hassled looking Grimmjow turned the corner and stalked into view. Behind him, an equally stressed looking Arrancar hurried after him, her arms burdened by sand filled sheets.

"Grimmjow! Do I have to carry this? Can't you just, like, get some new ones?" the high-pitch whine seemed to deafen the both of them as it echoed down the silent hall. Grimmjow growled but otherwise didn't answer; very recent experiences taught him that by answering he would encourage the little bitch.

Grimmjow paused as the familiarly lazy reiatsu of Stark entered his senses, and with a quick glance, he determined that Lilinette had noticed it as well. Glare firmly plastered onto his face, he watched as she seemed to visibly perk up in attention. Grimmjow was reminded of an eager puppy that had caught scent of its master. He snorted quietly as she bounced in place and tried to hurry, burdened only by her orders as well as the troublesome bedsheets. Slowing his pace purposely, he smirked, reveling in the girl's agonized expression. Turning the corner, the easily-distinguished slouched over form of the one and only Stark came into view. Grimmjow began to thank whatever god there was out there for taking the annoying bitch of a Fracción off of his hands.

However, Lady Karma had still not forgotten about the fact that Grimmjow had been a bad little Espada.

Three things happened at once.

One: Grimmjow was momentarily blinded by an aerial attack of strange large white birds.

Two: a deafening shriek of pleasure pierced through his sensitive ears and was abruptly followed by a sudden stomp on both of his feet.

Three: that really _hurt._

Howling angrily he slashed at the blankets that twined around his limbs stubbornly, huffing and bristling much like the animal his release was based on. The shredded remains of his bedding floated mournfully about him and the annoying giggle of an even more annoying little blonde _bitch_ soared annoyingly over his head.

"I've had it!" Grimmjow swiped at the airborne shreds, "I swear to god, I'll never be late again! Just get that bitch away from me!"

"Well, I didn't ask to get stuck with a bast-Mmnft!" Stark yawned into his free hand as the other clamped itself over his subordinate's mouth.

"I apologize, Grimmjow," the man in question grunted, "But Aizen-sama told me that today's meeting would be a... memorable one." The lazy man suddenly looked wary, "You didn't do anything too stupid, did you? 'Cause it sounded like he wanted _you_ there, almost more so than anyone else. He sounded almost... happy."

Grimmjow merely grunted as a definite feeling of foreboding snaked into him. If it were anyone of a lesser character in his shoes, they would have probably started shivering in fear. Aizen was never happy, or at least he never showed that he felt much of anything in front of his underlings. He just perpetually had that smirk plastered on, either insane to a level higher than Gin's, or a different, more sinister brand of psychotic. Gin was cunning and reeked of sly, slightly malevolent mischievousness; Aizen appeared caring and kind to such a degree that it was immediately apparent that it was a false front over his true feelings... which, in the end, were rather more frightening than those of his silver-haired lieutenant, the Sexta Espada decided.

Only two things were ever happen if Aizen was happy-- it was either a very carefully planned out bloodbath or an equally sadistic humiliation session. Grimmjow, notably, had had the honors of participating in both (though he had not been on the receiving end).

Pushing the great hall doors open, the two Espada took their respective seats, ignoring the enthusiastic goodbyes of the departing Fracción. Soon the room began to fill with the remaining Espada, followed by the two ex-Shinigami captains. The atmosphere seemed to buzz silently with curiosity; there had only been one meeting after the Shinigami had invaded, and it had only been to report information and the number of casualties and suchlike on both sides. It had been four months since then.

Grimmjow noted absently that Yammy and Ulquiorra had not come. He shrugged mentally; he didn't give a flying Gillian-shit about what happened to them; he was actually secretly hoping that that green-eyed little depressed bitch had gotten himself killed.

"I see that we have all gathered," not in the least bit startled by the sudden appearance of their leader, the Espada all turned to the head of the long table. There in all his egotistical glory, sat Aizen Sōsuke, unaffected by that fact that he was surrounded by high-level Arrancar. At his sides, the two other former Shinigami stood like the loyal lapdogs they were. Grimmjow was almost unnerved by Gin's smile, which seemed wider than usual… almost.

The ominous feeling grew.

"A most interesting and unusual sequence of events has happened," Aizen rested his chin on the back of his hand as he leaned back, completely at ease, "I'm sure that you all remember Nnoitora's report about the previous Tercero Espada, Neliel Tu Oderschvank." a rhetorical question... "And well as Ulquiorra's report of the late Kurosaki Ichigo before the capture of Inoue Orihime. I'm sure that those of you who have previously had the chance to encounter Kurosaki-kun in combat have taken note of his rather unusual abilities." His eyes locked onto Grimmjow's curious ones.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, a representative Shinigami who was still living, harbored another distinct part of his soul other than that of his Zanpakutō. Urahara Kisuke, an exiled former captain and founder of the Shinigami Research Institute, is most likely responsible for this situation. If he actually created the Hollow inside of Ichigo, or if he merely helped manifest it is unknown.

"As Ulquiorra reported, because of the ever-increasing presence of Ichigo's 'inner Hollow' there would be a chance, however slight, that he would one day join our ranks. That theory was however unable to be tested, as Ichigo had passed on."

His smooth smile stayed constant as he dropped the bomb.

"It seems, though, as if by a slight miscalculation of Fate, Kurosaki Ichigo is still alive."

Grimmjow's eyes widened and the doors opened to reveal Ulquiorra and Yammy. Slung over Yammy's great shoulder was the easily-recognized child form of Nell, knocked out cold. In a similar state, a being that Grimmjow had never seen before, was tucked securely under his pale arm. Rust coloured hair swayed limply as the Fourth bowed in greeting while Yammy just bobbed oddly, the sheer amount of bulk on his person preventing him from copying his green-eyed superior. Connecting Aizen's speech from earlier to the situation, Grimmjow put two and two together.

"Oh no… Oh _no_ _fuckin'_ _way."_

"Language, Grimmjow," Aizen scolded.

It was then, Grimmjow confirmed, that Aizen was _Happy_.

Today, truly, was a bad day for Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. Too bad it was, of course, only going to get worse.

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**Authors Note:**

Oh! I feel bad for Grimmjow, but really. You're all going "Finally! Grimmjow is introduced!" But Grimmjow's vocabulary seems to be effecting my own...

Anyways, Again I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and let's not forget **Kermit's Sister**, who sent this back the very next day I asked her to Beta it! -Bows-

Without Author's Note: 2608 words

**Grimmjow**: Bitch! 'Bout time you got me into the story.

**Zyu**: -drools-

**Grimmjow**: -backs up- Oi! What the fuck is with that demented look?

**Zyu**: Words will not hurt me anymore! As Ulquiorra has proved! Our love will not be damaged by such trivial things!

**Aizen**: -Pats Grimmjow's shoulder- Be nice to the girl, she gave you a lead role.

**Grimmjow**: Fuck off!

**Zyu**: -Clings to Grimmjow's leg-

**Lilinette**: Aw! Grimmjow! You got yerself a pet!

**Grimmjow**: -backs up leg- I. Said. Fuck. OFF! -Kicks Zyu into the sky-

**Ulquiorra**: And we just fixed her too. Grimmjow, you idiot.

**Stark**: -Yawns- We're out of screen time.


	5. Reaction

**Disclaimer: **Why do I even bother? -.-;;

**Authors Note:** -Heart attack- 100+ Reviews and 4 C2's! Reviews from my favorite authors, supportive reviewers and an awesome tolerating Beta! Thank you guys so much!

**Warnings: **In which we see Grimmjow's reaction and Szayel receives more screentime.

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**Kuso Gaki!**

**Reaction**

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"Oh no, Oh no fuckin' way…"

This was not happening. This was not fucking _happening_. Wide cobalt eyes followed the duo that had arrived with the unwelcome guests. Nnoitora, in a similar state, ground his teeth together as his long slim fingers dug into the fabric of his pants. In any other situation he would have leapt to his feet and finished the job he had been so sure of completing; however, the sheer idea that he would be shred to unrecognizable ribbons on just a whim of his master held him back. Nnoitora was a rational man, and although possessed of a crippled form of logic, he still had enough common sense to acknowledge that every little thing that Aizen did had an ulterior motive behind it.

Tearing his eyes away from the unusually childlike form of his sometime rival, he focused on the newer arrival. From what he could distinguish, the Arrancar seemed to be aged near seven or nine. The kid was wearing black baggy rags that seemed to resemble a crumpled and ripped torso part of a Shinigami's gi. Rust-like orange hair swayed as Ulquiorra made his way towards Aizen. Nnoitora straightened his lips into a thin white line of displeasure as he inspected the mask that was clasped to the right side of the kid's head; it was whole. He hopelessly tried to recall Szayel's ramblings about why Neliel was regressed into a strange false childhood after their double-team assassination.

So... the kid was either a natural born Arrancar who God humored with the form of a child, or had been subjected to an unusual transformation. What he didn't understand was what Aizen wanted with the little punk. He stared hard at the mask on the side of the boy's head. The shape was simplest he had ever seen; a white oval with two red stripes that threaded over where the cheek bone would be. The mask tickled his memory with a past event and then it clicked.

Turning his head he leered happily at the bristling Grimmjow before resting his head on the back of his hand. So that was Aizen's plan, or at least the gist of it. He snickered out loud and ignored Barragan's one eyed glare of disapproval. "So this is the kid you were talking about, Aizen-sama? What's his name, _Strawberry_?" his leer grew as Grimmjow twitched violently at the emphasis.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Aizen's answer seemed to cue Ulquiorra to halt and stand impassively beside the Arrancar leader, "it seems as though the Fates have decided to humor us with living proof of Ulquiorra's theory, no matter how... unexpected." He nodded his head towards the Fourth, and Ulquiorra moved once more until he was between the silently gloating Szayel and the still frozen Grimmjow. Setting Ichigo on the table, Ulquiorra watched in silent amusement as Grimmjow recoiled away from the boy as if he had just been slapped with a wet fish.

He briefly wondered if there were any fish in Las Noches.

Aizen then addressed the pink-haired scientist, who had already begun prodding the boy's head, "Szayel, I want you to find out how the boy has become like this and if he can be restored to a more mature form; Neliel as well. Ulquiorra will be supervising you so you do _not_ get out of hand-"

"Wait one fucking minute, do you really think I'm just going to just _accept_ this?!" the low hiss of anger interrupted the Arrancar leader mid order. Aizen raised a delicate eyebrow and smiled a knowing smile. He turned his attention to the bristling Sixth,

"On the contrary, Grimmjow, not only are you going to _accept_ this, but you'll have no objections to it. As of now you are to be Ichigo-kun's primary care giver."

"What!" the shout of rage appeared to provoke Tōsen as he had gripped the hilt of _Suzumushi_ until his knuckles were a light toffee color, contrasting with the deep brown of the rest of his hand.

"Watch your mouth, Grimmjow. You will do as you are told--"

Aizen waved a hand in disinterest before he laced his fingers together and Tōsen respectfully loosed his _Zanpakuto_. Eye gleaming in amusement, Aizen continued.

"Compared to the others, you are the only one who has encountered Ichigo-kun multiple times and therefore know him as best as one could be expected to, considering the situation."

"Bull_shit_!" Grimmjow slammed his fist down onto the table, his fist grazing the unconscious boy's orange locks (Szayel quickly snatched the precious bundle away) "I hate the little fucker!" he leered suddenly as he voiced his clever (yet not so clever) idea, already trying to squirm out of the situation, "How do you know I just won't kill 'im when no one's looking?"

The smirk vanished from Aizen's face, letting show a small sliver of his true nature. His reply was smooth, betraying no change to his emotions. Despite the outer alteration, the statement, as usual, was to a point.

"Then you may consider your life forfeit."

Grimmjow's mouth snapped shut with an audible clack of pointed teeth, but did nothing to stop the incessant growling that slipped out. How dare he? How _dare _he! His pride felt even more bruised as he barely held his anger in check. There was no way the Sexta Espada would die at the fault of a-- _twice damned_ little shit like that. No, Grimmjow Jaggerjacques would go out in a flaming burst of glory, preferably taking down as many of the enemy as possible. His eyes narrowed further as he glared at the bundle-that-should-not-exist. This was an outrage! Kurosaki Ichigo- this boy! It was preposterous! Ichigo was a being that he in, an extremely (_extremely_) grudging way, respected. For the boy to have fallen so low--!

A strange, strangled noise came from the Sexta.

"If there are no more _objections_," a pointed look was shot to the fuming Grimmjow, "Ulquiorra will supervise the experimentation so you do not overshoot the objective in any manner, Szayel. I expect you to bring me the results as soon as you have finished." He then addressed the whole group, "I am expecting that all of you will pass the news onto your subordinates that the Vizard is off limits. You are now dismissed." Aizen stood and left, flanked by the ever-smiling Gin and expressionless Tōsen.

"Haha, looks like you're the kid's bitch now, eh, Grimmjow?" Nnoitora sneered as he stood, "I almost feel sorry for ya... lil' bastard." Grimmjow snarled and flipped the middle finger at the Fifth in a blatant show of how he felt.

"As always-- a man of many words!" Nnoitora laughed and danced away from the teacup that was thrown at him. Still having his fit of mirth, the Quinto Espada left the meeting hall. Yammy seemed to have already left, leaving the unresponsive Nell with Ulquiorra. Halibel, who had been silent the whole time, stood and cast an almost concerned look towards the Sixth Espada, who looked as if he was roughly on the doorstep of implosion. Raising a delicate eyebrow she left, Barragan and Zommari, following, leaving the utterly disquieted Grimmjow with Szayel and Ulquiorra.

Szayel rolled his eyes at what he mentally labeled as Grimmjow's tantrum. Without a word, he stood, cargo tucked safely under his arm, and made for the doors. Turning, he stared, unimpressed, at the teal haired Espada, "Are you coming or not?" he ignored the profanities the other shot at him as they made their way to his lab. Ulquiorra, silent as a ghost, tailed them.

"Lumina, Verona!" at their master's lazy call, two familiar Fracción bounced out of the door which the Espada had just arrived in front of. Grimmjow, who had been slouched over, sulking with his hands buried in his pockets, looked up and gave a feral grin at the identical duo. Watching the now wary Fracción Grimmjow asked casually,

"Oi, Szayel, you can recreate your Fracción right? What did you call it again?"

"Hm," Szayel had a vague idea where this was going, "Cloning, why-?" too late. Szayel sighed under his breath as Grimmjow laughed maniacally, having Bala-blasted the two twittering Hollows as soon as Szayel gave the affirmative. Annoyance showed on the scientist's face; it would take time to clone the remains of his Fracción. Shaking his head he pushed he door open and offered passage to the two high ranking Espada.

Ulquiorra pushed past the exasperated Eighth and muttered softly. Szayel had a pretty good suspicion that he had just called the gleeful Sixth an idiot. He almost shrugged; it wasn't as if he could do anything to bend the truth. He was a man of science, after all, a man of fact.

"Hmmm... didn't Tosen mention the fact that you weren't allowed to kill off the Arrancar anymore, Grimmjow? And I'm surprised that Schiffer-san hasn't reprimanded you."

"Tch, since when did I say you could call me by my first name?" the comment was drawled and half-hearted. Grimmjow had begun to entertain himself by looking through Szayel's many bottles of poisons and antidotes, dutifully ignoring the source of his anger.

Careful not to drop or break the thin glass material that contained them, he wondered if that emo pansy ever ate… He glanced over his shoulder and met Ulquiorra's dry glare. Oops, were his intentions that obvious? Grumbling sulkily he turned muttering something along that lines of how the food would just fall back out.

"Aizen-sama has not directly ordered it. By killing trash that could easily be replaced, Grimmjow has not openly broken any rules." His reptilian eyes focused on the bundle under Szayel's arm. "Enough dawdling, hurry and proceed to examining Kurosaki."

"Yes, yes, one moment." Placing Ichigo onto one of his five surgeon's tables, he flicked a switch causing the lights to dim and an adjustable one to brighten. Making a few adjustments for the child's height, he strapped him down, causing the surgeon table to seem much more like one of interrogation. He then proceeded to remove the tattered rags and made a curious note when he couldn't find the hollow hole left by the destruction of one's chain of fate; interesting.

Grimmjow absently noted that the side table seemed to contain far more pointy and sharp tools needed for a mere examination.

"Watch yourself." Ulquiorra seemed to have come to the same conclusion before he pressed his spiritual pressure onto the pink haired scientist in warning. Szayel smirked ignoring the beads of sweat that gathered on the side of his brow,

"But of course," the reply was soft and murmured as Szayel ran his fingers over the handles of his various tools before resting on one of the three scalpels. Holding the tool up into the light, he pressed the side of the blade onto the pad of his finger causing a drop of blood well up and trailed down the side of his hand. Seeming to be satisfied with the tool he dropped it into a metal tub filled to the brim with a boiling purple coloured liquid. Grimmjow winced as the metallic screech of the scalpels blade connected with the metal container.

It was then he realized that in the lunatic's lair both he and Ulquiorra were at a disadvantage, no matter how slight. He stared down at one of the poisons he held in his hand, "Inner Rot" how lovely he thought dryly. Silently, he moved out of the way as Szayel came to retrieve something from the shelf of his many concoctions. He watched warily as the scientist hummed dragging a finger over the labels of the vials and bottles. God forbid, he wouldn't be surprised if the other suddenly turned and stabbed him with one of his needles before dragging him away to give him a gender change. He shivered when Szayel smiled having found what he was looking for; where had that thought come from?

Drawing one of the needles from the pan, he punctured the flimsy silver cover of the small vial and drew the liquid from within. "My own version of the human drug morphine," he explained as he flicked the needle delicately, removing the small bubbles of air that had been caught within. "Unlike the real world's version, this can affect souls and Hollows alike. Like its human counterpart it acts directly on the nerves, however this version completely stops and nullifies the part of the brain that controls the nerves ability to feel, touch and register pain. Rendering its victim completely useless." He injected into the boy's arm causing him to stir and whimper, "Very handy on the battlefield. And Grimmjow, if you do not wish to find out the effects of the poison you're so happily tossing, I suggest that you put it back where it belongs."

"Fuck off, I'll do whatever th' hell I want." But Grimmjow replaced the vial despite his words. "How long are you going to take? I'm getting sick of waiting."

"Patience is a virtue-"

"Fuck Virtue,"

"-But a good hour will do..."

"Great, then I'll be back." Grimmjow gave a mock salute to the irate eighth at the lab's doors, "Oh, and by the way: Piss off, stay away from my room ya' stupid letch."

Szayel gave a crooked grin, but otherwise didn't answer the Sexta Espada as he left the room. He shifted his gaze to the fourth, almost forgetting that he was there (but not quite, it was rather impossible to ignore that unnerving stare), "Schiffer-san, you can place Neliel onto the other table." the other shook his head,

"It would be much too troublesome if the girl were to awake during your examination. The presence of my reiatsu immobilizes her."

"If you say so," Szayel turned back to his project and twirled the scalpel in his hand before cutting a thin long line on the boy's inner wrist. Ignoring the blood that began to leak and stain the table he inserted a thin metal disk-like device into the cut and pressed glaze over the edge of the skin. Nodding when he determined that the mechanism was secured he pressed bandaged slicked with the same glaze over the project's vital organs. Attached to the bandages were wires that connected to a complex looking machine which began to hum with life as soon as Szayel turned it on.

His glasses caught the surgical light's glow, reflecting the project on the table. Pale and immobilized, the creature on the table looked pathetic; how interesting. As the scientist smirked, Ulquiorra, unimpressed, stared on.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

-Blubbers incoherently-

_Translation:_

Thank you guys so soo Much! I'm so happy! Again I apologize for the delay but now that I've graduated Grade Eight, I can write as much as I want over the summer vacation! (Hopefully)

Thanks for the ideas you guys! I didn't reply to those because they were suggestions and not actual questions. As I said before I planned thoe whole story out and only needed Grimmjow and Ichigo moments, so previous suggestions for anything other than that were rejected. Sorry, I don't want to rewrite the plot xP.

Without Author's Note: 2424 words

**Szayel:** Ah, the joys of purely focused screen time-...

**Nnoitora****:** What are you waiting for?

**Szayel:** Hm, I was just expecting a shout of anger...

**Grimmjow: **Screw Your expectations! Why the hell do _**I **_Have to babysit some mutated midget?

**Ulquiorra: **Do not question Aizen-sama's orders.

**Zyu: **Shh! Ichibrat is sleeping!

**Szayel: **On a Side note, May I inquire as to why I seem to be receiving the largest amounts of screen Time?

**Zyu: **Oh! Well -Pulls out random charts and graphs- You are the smartest Arrancar in the Espada, therefore I can use you as a transition and ways to explain Ichigo's unusual transformation... And I find it easier to write you because we think on the same wavelength.

**Ulquiorra:** ...

**Grimmjow:** ...

**Nnoitora: **...Well, Fuck...

**Szayel: **-Adjusts Glasses- ... I refuse to be compared to such a primitive being...

CRACK

**Grimmjow:** Tch..

**Ulquiorra:** Not again...

* * *


	6. The Room

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach, nor do I dye my hair.

**Authors Note:** -mopes- I only had 14 reviews last chapter. ;.; (the actual chapter, not the note before it)

**Warnings: **In which Ichimaru Gin is actually _not_ screwing with the halls for once and Szayel gives his much awaited theory.

* * *

**Kuso Gaki!**

**Dressing Room  
**

* * *

Szayel wasn't fond of children- actually; he wasn't really fond of anything that he hadn't created. A thing the product of science and his own ingenuosity. Science was fascinating; the combinations of existing things could create another that was completely new-- purely the result of calculation and the taking of predetermined steps. People on the other hand were beings of emotions; their brain chemistry reacted to situations in which the particular person was trained to think of as as good or bad. All humans, despite having the same basic genetic beginnings, were raised and taught differently. As they grew they combined what they already knew to create more beliefs, finally culminating in unreliable, unpredictable personalities. The unconscious boy in front of him was absolutely no exception.

The steady hum of the laboratory's machines soothed the previously irritated Octava as he read the information that scrolled down his screen briskly. His eyes glinted as he caught a particularly remarkable piece of information. The boy was not completely Hollow, but neither was he a Shinigami. It would be impossible for the boy to be a Plus spirit; Hueco Mundo was too dense in spirit particles for a Plus to survive; the boy's Hollow mask proved that.

Szayel rested his left hand on his chin and splayed the fingers out in thought while with his right hand, he cradled his left elbow. He loved a good puzzle, and this one was by far the most captivating enigma he had been given. His eyes darted from the boy to the unmoving Fourth; if only he had been given more leeway…

"Don't even think about it."

"Hai, hai…" Szayel sighed dramatically before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a long, slender finger. He returned his attention to the screen as the machine began to measure and record the boy's spirit pressure, having finished with the physical examination. Amber eyes widened in pleasant surprise as the information continued to gather. The boy was leaking incredible amounts of reiatsu from his body, as some are prone to doing when death is upon them. The spirit particles, however, were drawn into the boy's Hollow mask before they could scatter. He tapped several keys on the machine and turned a knob to focus in a little further.

Unlike Neliel, whose reiatsu leaked only from her mask, Ichigo's seemed to do quite the opposite. Szayel tapped his cheek thoughtfully. Wouldn't that cause the child to return to his previous teenaged form? He stared at the words and equations that flitted across the screen of the measuring device at lightning speed. The boy showed absolutely no sign of growing up anytime soon, as it were, which seemed utterly bizarre and wholly against the natural process. Could the Hollow mask be a medium for Ichigo's reiatsu? A device that recycled the spirit particles that tried to escape so that the boy could then use them. The idea wasn't entirely far-fetched. Szayel hummed softly. From what he had gathered, the little Kurosaki was a strange hybrid of all the creatures possessing souls-- Shinigami, human, and Hollow. His human life-energy probably forced the two other conflicting reiatsu phenomena to mesh and intertwine, breaking down the barrier between Shinigami and Hollow.

Aizen had attacked the Shinigami representative through the Orb of Distortion, with full intent to kill. The Hougyoku was created originally to destroy barriers and complete the whole. In this case, the carrot-top nuisance lacked a true death (having a still-breathing body could do that to a person). Was that the final ingredient: Death?

The lack of any discernible Chain of Fate? Aizen had wanted to kill Ichigo when using the Orb, which rendered its subject complete (or freakishly mutated). Ichigo had previously been part Shinigami, part human, part Hollow... yet, it had all happened artificially, due to the Kuchiki girl and probably someone else, without any of the natural process... Szayel stared intently at the readouts, becoming further convinced the further along he read. By amplifying the final addition to Kurosaki's mixed soul by at least ten-fold, it had knocked his fragile spiritual balance out of whack. Szayel's eyes stayed fixated on the simple porcelain-like mask. Along with the fact that they were in Heuco Mundo and the Shinigami had been hit whilst in his Vizard form, yes; it sounded oddly logical. Ichigo seemed to have turned into something more akin to an Arrancar-- half Vasto Lorde, half Shinigami, with just a trace of human left-- he had even consumed enough other Hollows, as was natural, while in the desert with Nell. All of this had happened while having skipped the Hollowfication process. So, the only thing preventing his balance from tipping towards the Hollow side was the lack of reiatsu. Which was currently being absorbed by the mask.

Well, that could easily be fixed.

Szayel quickly jotted down his thoughts and a complete hypothesis before printing the readouts and then switching the machine off. He then removed the disk from the boy's arm, stitched the wound shut with a spell, healed it with a simple application of reiatsu (Hollow kidou!), and wrapped the child in a starched white laboratory sheet, then hunted around for a blanket. It wouldn't do for the specimen to get sick, annoying bastard he might have been or not. He signaled one of his Fracción to take the boy. Seemingly on cue, another Fracción shrieked before babbling incoherently.

"Now, now ya don' need ta' be that loud 'bout it. Quiet down." The Fracción whimpered but obeyed as the two trespassers came into view. In a swish of white robes and an ever constant smirk, Gin rounded the corner of the large Laboratory tailed by one of Szayel's distraught Fracción. He put on a show of being surprised at the sight of the disgruntled Eighth and the impassive Fourth. "Well, well, fancy meetin' y'all here."

"This is my laboratory. My _locked_ and _guarded_ laboratory." the deadpan reply seemed to delight the tow-headed intruder as he practically skipped towards the two Espada.

"Aw, I jus' wanted to see lil' Ichi-brat since you were finished n' all." Gin's smile widened and Szayel's frown deepened. There was a moment of silence as the two stared, or in Gin's case, grinned, each other down. Finally the pink-haired Octava turned away and adjusted his glasses.

"Do as you wish."

Gin smiled before happily plucking the unconscious boy from the Fracción's arms. "Lets get you some clothes. Though I'd surely like to see his face, Sōsuke-san wouldn't be that happy wit' me if I let you run 'round naked." The happy chirp fell on deaf ears as Ichigo mumbled disjointedly in his sleep before nuzzling into Gin's robes.

Szayel sniffed crossly as the unusual duo left. A soft thump was all the warning he had before a pair of frigid green eyes drilled into his own. The scientist stepped back, startled, and reflexively tensed, prepared to spring away at the slightest hint of an attack. Those same green eyes that seemed much more like a matching pair of emeralds, equally cold and deep green, shone inwardly in silent amusement before Ulquiorra stepped back revealing what he had set on the table. Neliel.

Embarrassed, Szayel coughed discreetly into a clenched fist, "Of course, the examination… right…" Szayel averted his gaze and moved to hook the former Tercero Espada up to the machine. The laboratory quieted down once more and too soon did the Eighth hear the same Fraccion on guard duty shriek before the sound was abruptly cut off with a solid smacking noise and an indignant squawk.

"Shut the fuck up, ya stupid fat ass!"

Szayel rolled his eyes and sighed. He was going to take a nice long break after this; he felt abused.

"Oi! You! Where's the brat?" Grimmjow stormed angrily into the room. The Espada had skulked around Las Noches in the hopes that he could calmly reflect upon his bothersome new mission. Such hoping was all in vain, as the more he had thought about it, the further enraged he had become. After an hour had passed (during which he paced and alternately ground his teeth and pulled in a highly stressful manner at his hair), Grimmjow had decided that he would treat his nemesis in a similar fashion as he had before-- but toned down some. He couldn't abide hurting a defenseless little kid, even though he would never say it aloud for fear of being thought soft. There was no need to put his life at stake just because he had harassed a child to the point of tears. With those reflections thought and planned, the Sixth Espada had hurried back to Szayel's laboratory.

Szayel's frown rearranged into a cunning smile. "You're late, Grimmjow, by fifteen minutes. Didn't I tell you that it would only take one hour?" His voice was quiet, yet had a decidedly cool, harsh edge. He had not even turned to look at the growling Sexta.

"So what?" Grimmjow snapped. He was annoyed at his current situation but couldn't help but let his eyes rove the room for the tell tale sign of bright orange hair. A slight feeling of anxiousness appeared when he couldn't locate the bright neon mop nor the childish Vaizard attached. "Where's the brat?"

"It seems as though young Kurosaki has left the room. You just missed him Grimmjow, what a shame. Fifteen minutes earlier and you could've caught up-Urk!" Szayel's soft taunt was interrupted halfway when he suddenly found himself pressed up against one of his machines; Grimmjow's sword calloused and clawed hands wrapping themselves around his throat.

"I'll kill you. Where is he?" the killer intent was tangible as the provoked Espada tightened his grip on the fragile windpipe, "You better not be fuckin' around with me... Szayel Apollo Grantz," he spat the other's name out as if it were poison. He pulled back and smashed the scientist into the side of his own exam table. "Now _where_ is _Kuro_-fucking-_saki_?" He loosened his grip just enough to allow the other the opportunity to breathe.

"Are you sure you should be wasting your time with me?" Szayel coughed and spluttered through his taunt, "How many of the Arrancar here could resist a little snack like that brat?" he choked once more when the pressure around his throat tightened, "If it eases your mind, he is in the northwest wing." The strangling hands disappeared before Szayel was thrown into the wall.

"If I _die_ because of this I'll be taking you to hell with me!" The angry shout was snarled before Grimmjow disappeared with the unmistakable signs of Sonido. Szayel slumped down onto the floor, and coughed up a little blood. Two, maybe three ribs had been broken from Grimmjow's careless toss. His lips curled into an arrogant smirk. It was dangerous but incredibly amusing to wind up his fellow Espada. Suddenly remembering the presence of Ulquiorra, Szayel stood up and sent a withering glare toward the Fourth. Ulquiorra was looking in completely the opposite direction and was unaffected by the death glare, Szayel was however offered a rare explanation for the Fourth's lack of action:

"It was amusing,"

Szayel felt incredibly abused.

Ichimaru Gin on the other hand, was having the time of his life. Though it really wasn't a well-known fact, it was Gin who designed and tailored the outfits for the population of Las Noches. Though Aizen himself could've cared less, Gin had insisted that they change their wardrobe to differentiate themselves visually as well as in nature from the guardians of Soul Society. Not to mention the fact that nobody wanted certain minions strolling about in their birthday suits. Especially those such as Barragan.

Gin certainly would have been fine with, say, Cirucci Thunderwitch in the nude, however. He quickly returned his mind to the task at hand with a quick, efficient palm to the forehead.

"Hehe... I can't think what would suit ya better, little guy..." Gin's fox-like smile widened as he mused out loud and his unresponsive victim shifted nervously in response. Brandishing his measuring tape he gleefully recorded the child's sizes; how often did he receive willing (though shell-shocked) volunteers? Well, he could count them all on one hand. Though the unconscious ones didn't complain, that really wasn't entirely voluntary, now was it?

He lightly tapped a pressure point at the base of the boy's ear when he began to fidget once more. He didn't hide his delighted smile when little Ichigo, just a little dizzy from the swat, bit his lip and twined his fingers together in another attempt at patience. Ichigo had woken up riding Gin's shoulders and had begun wailing as soon as he remembered the previous day's events. The man had hushed him with nonsense sounds and reassurances that his makeshift family was alright. The silver haired man made the boy nervous, and he practically started bursting at the seams with questions. Gin was actually surprised with the boy's stubborn will and lack of inquiries. It wouldn't last long though, the ex-captain thought as he swatted the boy once more. Ichigo had begun fidgeting again.

"Um…"

"Is somethin' the matter?"

"…Um," Ichigo twined his fingers together and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide chocolate eyes focused on Gin's shifting robes, "What's mister's name?"

Gin stopped his relentless measuring attack and put down his weapon. Smile continually present, Gin crouched slightly and pointed one finger towards himself, "Ichimaru's th' name, but you kin' call me Gin!"

"Oh-okay, Gin…" Ichigo smiled shyly before averting his gaze to the floor, curiosity temporally sated; the silver haired man seemed nice enough. Gin just hummed in response and moved behind the tiny Vizard, once again wielding his measuring stick. Unleashing a steady stream of clearly useless babble (about what styles he could dress the youth in), Gin opened brilliant blue-green eyes halfway to fully contemplate the child.

"_What do you think you're doing, you punk!" **(1)**  
_

This shy and happy creature was a sharp contrast to the sharply angry, righteously motivated teen that was once known as Kurosaki Ichigo. This was not what he had expected. Gin couldn't really help but feel suspicious; just how much did this child remember? This child who had absolutely no internal resemblance to his former enemy?

"Now, now, stop fidgeting, an' don't suck in yer' stomach either!" Ichigo pouted, now at ease with the smiling fox.

Gin was positive that the memory loss was not pretense, from the very few encounters he had had with the Substitute Shingami, it was clear that he really wasn't one's strategist of choice; he was instead straightforward, violent, and predictable. Actually, if the two hadn't been on opposing sides, Gin was sure that Ichigo could've been a great friend (source of entertainment).

"Um…"

"Hmm?"

"…Can I call you Uncle Gin?"

A pause. "Of course you can, Ichi! Want me ta' tell you sumt'in inter'stin 'bout somebody?"

"_Shoot to kill, Shinsou!" **(2)**  
_

"Where the fuck is that brat!?" The echoing scream of rage cleared the halls of any loitering Arrancar. Grimmjow, with renewed fury flickered though the halls, driven by anger and a slight twinge of fear. When Ichigo was a teen, his reiatsu leaked out like a flooding faucet; it wasn't hard to find the annoying carrot top. Ichigo's other form was almost undetectable in Heuco Mundo's atmosphere, which was positively rife with spirit particles, much more so than the other worlds. Turning the corner, Grimmjow skidded to a halt. Taking a deep breath Grimmjow fought to steady his emotions. With a concentrated strong pulse of spirit pressure, Grimmjow used _Pesquisa_.

Though Ichigo's spirit pressure was weak, he wouldn't have too much trouble finding it. Or at least that's what he reasoned. His brow furrowed further downwards and his scowl deepened. Didn't the low-level Arrancar scum scram when they heard his furious roar? Grimmjow huffed angrily and mentally sorted through the nearby spirit signatures. Yammy, Ulquiorra, Szayel, Lin-bitch-something, Gin... wait... _Gin_? Wasn't he always in the control room screwing around with the halls and driving the newbies insane? With a sudden epiphany (gut-feeling) and understanding (assumption), Grimmjow followed the signature towards a very familiar and dreaded place.

The fitting room.

Grimmjow would never forget the humiliating moments he had spent there shortly after his 'rebirth'. Was it really a mystery to the fox face to why exactly he was disliked so much? Was it really?

His flashback came to a halt when he skidded to a halt in front of the door, and with a deep breath kicked it open in what he considered a very macho yet appropriate move.

Gin smiled, already facing the door, both hands clasped over Ichigo's shoulders.

"Hey, hey, this is the guy I was talkin' bout, Ichi-kun!" he bent forwards and mock-whispered into Ichigo's ear.

"Remember what I told ya?"

Ichigo looked curiously at the seething blue-haired stranger, then made a tiny 'ohhh' sound; with outstretched arms and a blindingly white smile from ear to ear he chirped, "Kitty!"

All hell broke loose.

* * *

**Authors note:**

(1) + (2) is (3) (Joking! Joking! Don't stab me!) Bleach Chapter 75 pg 10 and Bleach Chapter 75 pg 15. Gin and Ichigo's first meeting.

**Kermit's Sister **helped me _alot _for this chapter (I mean more than the usual alot), my inspiration (reviews) died. It seems the more chapters I put up the less reviews I'm getting, nuuu Don't do this to me... So for the first time I'm going to ask:

**Review Please!** And If you've got the time give me some constructive critisism and feedback as I value those the most. Just give me a sign I'm doing this fanfiction thing right xD

I didn't start chapter seven yet. ;.;

Without Author's Notes: 2842 words:

**Chibi!Ichigo:** Uwah! Nell! Don Chakka! Pesche! Where are you?

**Gin: **Aw don't worry! They're safe, don't cry!

**Chibi!Ichigo:** Really? -sniff-

**Gin:** Really really!

**Grimmjow:** -sneers- No way!

**Chibi!Ichigo: **Uwaaaah!

**Gin: **Aw don't cry! -Pat pat-

**Ichigo:** Hey! Don't touch him-er me! Fox-face!

**Gin: **But he's crying! And he's so cute!

**Ichigo:** I'm Not-he's not-he is..-I'm NOT- ARG! SHUT UP YOU BASTARD! -Leaves the room-

**Chibi!Ichigo:** Baaaa-bas-Baaasture?

**Grimmjow:** Review if ya' want to see hell break loose. -Reaches for Chibi!Ichigo- Now, what the fuck did you call me?

**Chibi!Ichigo:** Kitty!

**Gin:** Oh dear,

**Ulquiorra:** We're out of screentime.


	7. Cold Tummy

**Disclaimer: **Ichigo likes Pudding. I like Ichigo-- but Ichi belongs to pudding OTL. Bleach doesn't really matter 8D *SHOT*

**Authors Note:** Omg 200+ Reviews and an UPDATE WOW! LOL LOOK GAIZ I ARE NOT FAILURE?! *SHOTSHOTSHOT By angry reviewers* DX I AM SO SORRY FOR DELAY!

**Warnings: **Not editted since you guys deserve this so I might edit this again. Again my apologies!

* * *

**Kuso Gaki!**

Gin knew he was treading on thin ice-

He knew what he was getting into ever since and probably even before he bent over to whisper his interesting tidbit of information into Ichigo's ear. He knew he was exploiting something that the others had absolutely no power over (both the angry Grimmjow and the naïve Ichigo). He saw the reactions coming from a mile away when Grimmjow flailed around for a moment battling his first reaction to strangle Ichigo and the knowledge that he would die if he did so. And, of course, Gin _definitely_ saw the punch Grimmjow was reeling back to throw. Deep down inside, the sensible part of Gin knew that he deserved the nose shattering punch that was coming right at him.

And that was the exact reason why he moved out of the way.

Gin knew he was treading on thin ice but.. at least the pond was shallow.

"_Bastard!_" The shout was accented with a very satisfying crack, Grimmjow was however disappointed to notice that the source of the beautiful noise was _not_ Gin's nose and rather the strange podium that a certain carrot topped nuisance sat on. A tiny whimper was all the warning the blue haired man got before the child was bawling at the top of his tiny little lungs. What? He did a double take: he hadn't even hit the kid!

"Stop crying!" Grimmjow winced as the wail began to border on a shriek. He clamped his hands over his ears and even Gin seemed to be a bit set off by the pitch the small creature was reaching. "Stop! I didn't even hit you, you stupid idiot!"

"Ohhh~ Grimmjow made Ichigo _cry. _Oh _dear, _whatever-oof! Shall we do?" Gin exaggerated the catch that Grimmjow threw. He set the chair down and sat on it before tilting his head so the measuring kit flew over his shoulder. When Grimmjow finally ran out of things to throw Gin commented casually, picking at the non existent dirt beneath his nails, "Ya' know, maybe you should've let me _finish_ Souske-san's task befor' yeh' went on destroyin' an' throwin' all my tools." He grinned, " 'Course it's not _my _problem if Aizen gets mad cuz' poor little Ichibrat isn't properly cared for..."

Grimmjow huffed, his shoulders heaving from anger rather than exhaustion. Through gritted teeth and deafened ears, he grinded out with narrowed eyes, "Then go ahead and _fix it."_

"Oh! But my poor back," Gin patted his back with a huge, exaggerated, _fake_ groan, "Poor uncle Gin has been workin' all day, and this evil little kitty is tellin' him to pick up the things that he threw! Oh, Ichigo, isn't kitty so mean?"

Ichigo nodded vigorously and scampered off the podium to cling to Gin's robes, the fluffy towel around his waist threatening to drop. He stuck out his lower lip and sniffled pathetically and Grimmjow sneered. What a weak, stupid pathetic creature Ichigo had turned into, or rather, it was just more pronounced. The thought caused him to leer and as a result caused Ichigo to start hiccupping with little sobs once more.

"Oh, won't ya' go pick up the stuff little kitty? My back hurts so much!" Grimmjow swallowed the insult dancing on his tongue and ground his teeth together angrily before he went to do the fox's bidding.

He swore that this would be the last time he would be humiliated again. The blue haired man was looking forward to the next attack against the real world. The thoughts of brutally decapitating and obliterating a helpless Shinigami comforted him.

But of course, Lady Karma had other thoughts.

"Who would have that I'd see the day that the "mighty" Grimmjow Jaggerjaques reduced to common household chores?" a slow deliberate voice noted. Each syllable relished and delivered to have maximum impact. Who else could it have been but-

"Szayel fucking Aporro Grantz. What the _hell_ do you want?"

"Maa, maa. No need to get angry. I haven't come to taunt." Szayel's smile could have meant anything, "I've come with your list of duties that Aizen-sama has approved of. Because of your, hm, "new" responsibility you have been taken off of the active battalion,"

"What?!"

Szayel raised the clipboard to protect himself from the spittle that flew from Grimmjow's mouth. Rabies, perhaps? He peeked nonchalantly over the edge and nodded to himself. The symptoms suggested something along those lines…

"Ah, don't worry. If you do your duty correctly then you'll be able to get back into the action," Szayel explained with distaste. Sure fighting was a thrill (it was embedded into every hollow's instincts) but he much rather preferred the company of his slaves and his laboratory to that of smelly, sweaty and bloody men. Of course… It would be a different story if he were fighting side by side with the famous Halibel… He let that thought drift a bit before he continued, "Now here's the list, I assume you know how to read? No, no I'll spare you and read it myself…"

As the Szayel rattled off the list of what Grimmjow had to do, Gin and Ichigo watched from their little corner. Gin's smile widened considerably while Grimmjow's look of disbelief and confusion deepened. It was no question that the battle hearty Sexta would have absolutely no idea how to care for Ichigo if left alone. And he emphasized _left alone._

"Ne, ne Uncle Gin. What's a "bath"?"

Gin chortled quietly and answered with a noncommittal noise before he hurried Ichigo back to the podium with his tools. "It's time to put ya' into some fitting cloths, Ichi-kun. Now what design will suit ya' best…?" Gin's eyes opened a fraction and gazed at the odd duo behind him (Each task that Szayel casually prattled off seemed to increase the invisible weight on Grimmjow's shoulders) and he grinned.

"I know the _perfect_ little thing to put ya' in, Ichi-kun…"

"… and last but not the least, you'll have to obviously protect the boy from the other Arrancar and Hollow. Any questions?"

"Questions…" Grimmjow echoed faintly, the next hundred chores flitting around his head. How exactly was he supposed to _do _this? Why, out of all the Espada, no of all the damned Arrancar was _he_ supposed to do _this?_

"Oh!" the chirp of delight, interrupted Grimmjow's thoughts as Gin clapped, already having finished his tailoring while Szayel had been instructing.

"..What the hell…?!"

Ichigo blinked before smiling widely, clapping his hands together before patting his exposed belly, "I look like kitty!" The boy then frowned, expression twisting into serious thought, "..my tummy is cold…" mood still quite somber the brown eyed boy looked up to the twitching sexta, "Is kitty cold?"

"_Grimm-__**jaw! **_Not—_kitty _you godamned—no no—oh jeeze- do ya' _Flood _or something you emo boy?! Stop Cryin'!"

"Oh dear.." Gin smiled widely and picked the sniveling child up, "Are you completely sure that Grimmjow is the right guardian for this boy? Already making 'im cry n' everything..~" Grimmjow blinked at Gin's sudden sympathy his feeling of relief overshadowing his suspicion, maybe it hadn't been set in stone—maybe he _didn't _have to care for this dirty snot faced brat.

"I mean.. Grimmjow obviously doesn't want to,"

True, true, he'd rather face off with his fellow Espada and Shinigami captains than take care of this shrunken shadow of his rival.

"And that's not the fact that he shouldn't—I mean.. Already making the poor boy cry- He's obviously... _inadequate." _

_--What? _Said inadequate Arrancar took in a deep steadying breath, trying to calm his boiling blood--

"—wouldn't it be much better an' safer—not to mention _better _to let someone else take care of him..? Saay… Ulquiorra for example~"

"--"

Szayel blinked before suddenly smiling in what seemed like agreement, tossing a perfectly groomed pink lock out of his face, "My—that _is _an idea isn't it? Not only would Ulquiorra finish the task and carry it out word by word but we wouldn't have to worry about Grimmjow completely screwing up _again_ hmm~?"

"--"

"Yes yes, Grimmjow-chan has already failed _so _many times while Ulquiorra hasn't a single blemish on his perfect record~"

The two smiling men beamed at each other over the hunched and trembling Grimmjow, expressions perfectly innocent and honest.

"—Give me that!" Grimmjow hissed, straightening up in wounded pride. No way in hell was he going to be compared to Ulquiorra and give that damn green panda _another _thing to gloat over with his stupid silence! The sexta reached out, grabbing the squealing boy before storming out of the room, voice bitter and angry, "just you damn **see! **I won't lose to him!"

Silence followed the angry Espada's exit.

"Very well played~"

"Why thank you~ Ya weren't so bad yourself~"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry OTL

I deserve a brick to the face.

I thank those who reviewed me and sent emails asking me to update after a year passed by-- I was touched really and that's why I updated, I'm glad you guys still care about this hunk of letters. I love you all x3

**Ichigo: **It's about time this was updated!

**Grimmjow: **No fuck?

**Ichigo: **HEY! Wanna go you damned Hollow?!

**Grimmjow: **Bring it on you little brat! Ha!

**Gin: **H-Hey now guys~ Let's not try an' break the authoress agai--

_**CRUNCH**_

**Gin: **-n... *sighs*

**Szayel: **..You two really are one and the same-

**Grimmjow:** SHUT UP!

**Ichigo: **SHUT UP!

**Grimmjow: **Don't _copy _me you ichiBRAT!

**Szayel: **-mutters- We're out of screentime...

**Gin: **Don't forget ta' review~


End file.
